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Chapter 7: Wonderland


I am floating, the road a river. Through yellow-tinted aviator glasses, the jungle is painfully brilliant and clear. Vietnam, Apocalypse Now. This is the end. Nay, the beginning. A euphoric wonder floods my mind. My trusty steed coasts slowly through the curves as I plug in my music player. Music, pure pleasure for the ears. Roll the windows up, eager anticipation of that first note, that opening of a story wonderful beyond worlds. A softly confident voice begins singing, pianos and guitars strumming exotic sounds, calming, enticing my brain into a trance. A tinge of paranoia remaining, blocking the trance, forcing focus on the road ahead, a wholly unfamiliar place, summer hot and green in November. The black digits of the music player unreadable, some album I downloaded way back but never listened to, or listened to but only as background, never hearing the intricate dance of tunes, this musical shaman leading my brain gently through a waking dream of overwhelming intensity.

The highway flattens out, easy driving through the coastal plain, plantations of palm and sugarcane, cars and trucks riding my bumper. The urge to pull over and rest can no longer be ignored; the roaring flood of stimuli pouring through my brain reaches an unbearable level. My confidence has evaporated, a delusion born of blindness. Under a palm tree near the toll booths for the big west coast highway, I find a safe and shady spot to recoup. Toll booths – a gatekeeper sweating in a blind, patiently waiting for unwary vehicles to come within range. A policeman stares unmovingly at me from a couple hundred yards away. News articles about toll booth hijackers, protesters against perceived government extortion, occupy my racing mind. Will this policeman call backup, report a vehicle staking out this remote jungle checkpoint? How would I handle a demanding squad of state police, tearing through my possessions and interrogating me in rapid-fire Spanish?

Then this ugly train of paranoia gets pulled to a screeching halt. The “policeman” is a pole for an overhead sign, painted black and white for visibility. This is a land where personal drug use is decriminalized, where I have full legal permission to be, where harmlessly odd behavior is tolerated. In a thousand plus kilometers of driving, I have not encountered any checkpoints or roadblocks. True, I am all alone, distant from anyone and any place I know, but I am well-prepared, prudent, and an unqualified success at whatever I put my mind to. The voice of musical wisdom has changed, another wise and gentle teacher sharing his insights through music. He tells of his friend Adam, a former travel buddy with whom he wandered aimlessly around the world. How they grew apart, going their separate ways until he got the call; Adam had sent himself on to eternity. And now, full of sadness, he holds out his little light, hoping that it would provide hope and guidance to others. Tears flood my eyes; I feel his dismay, a deep wounding sense of personal failure, pouring gently through my speakers on this sultry afternoon. Imperceptibly, a soft and cooling fog rolls over my overheated brain; the dream is over.